


When He Saw Them Again

by shaeneva



Series: Including Batman [3]
Category: Justice League (2017)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst with a Happy Ending, Comfort Food, Everyone Gets A Hug, Everyone Needs A Hug, Gen, Gossip, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Lies, Mental Health Issues, New Year's Fluff, Secrets, Technology, Water, implied mutual pining, positive touch starvation recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-25 15:57:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13838124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shaeneva/pseuds/shaeneva
Summary: After a week of being almost completely ignored, Alfred gets fed up and asks Barry what he gave Bruce, because the only detail he could get out was that the box was from him and he's concerned by how much time he's spending in his bedroom with the door locked. They have the talk in the kitchen. It's morning. It's early. Then, they're not alone and it's a great icebreaker.





	1. No Secrets

**Author's Note:**

> I started watching Gotham because I was Stuck on where to go from What's In The Box? and decided to add it as a listed fandom because I now plan - in a later part - to make a (possibly only blink-and-you'll-miss-it, haven't decided yet) reference to the canon self-harm in its second episode. Not until ch.6 tho.

It's been a long, quiet week after a good, but still strange sight.  
"What did you give him?"  
Breakfast is served, but someone isn't awake yet.  
"Have you tried just asking _him?"_  
"I have. He wouldn't tell me. Water or tea?"  
What a smile, what a laugh. It could bring light to the darkest of places. In fact, it has.  
"You make good tea. How do you think... What kind of mood did it put him in? Did you see him right after he opened it?"  
"Yes. It was odd. I asked if something was wrong because I thought he looked upset. He told me he was 'just really happy.' Please, all I could get out of him was that you gave it to him. What _is_ it?"  
He shoves a triangle piece of the most gloriously thick and soft pancake he's ever seen in his mouth before answering. "Five pieces of paper, written on by myself and the other four. Personal notes to him. I didn't read theirs, so I couldn't tell you what they said, but they all agreed with me that we should try to include him more. I'm starting to think Arthur was just humoring me and didn't mean it after how he acted at the restaurant."  
"And where was it?"  
"Olive Garden."  
"He wouldn't even give me a 'good' or 'fine' or 'not good' when I asked how _that_ went."  
"Wow. Rude."  
A drumming of fingers on the doorframe startles them both.  
"How long have you been standing there?"  
"Oh, I hope you don't mind I invited him over!"  
"It's okay. I see my spot at the table is set. I know you two like to have your little chit-chats about... right now, apparently, me. My understanding is that it's usually about food."  
"I'm still sorry. I should have told you first."  
"Don't be. I'm used to you being nosy. And, Barry," he addresses, "it's actually a good thing that you're here. I've been doing a lot of thinking and marking up a calendar and there's some things I have to ask you about if you don't have to leave too soon."  
A piece of pancake falls off the fork. "No problem."


	2. Fresh Air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He gets told to take a walk or just go outside and do SOMETHING often enough, just to not be cooped up inside for a little while, take a break, a breather, relax and watch the sky change colors in the morning or evening or whatever. It's not common, but sometimes, he listens.
> 
> It's one of those times.

It's a breezy day, not windy enough that it doesn't feel nice. If you watch it long enough, the water stops looking dull. This isn't a short little neighborhood stroll, although it did start out as such. Somehow, he ended up somewhere a bit farther off, somewhere it's hard to find a place to park. It is quiet, though, and not in a creepy way; in a peaceful way.  
When someone else takes a seat next to him on the ground, he prepares for that peace to break. It doesn't.  
"It's beautiful, isn't it?"  
It's another early morning, after a night of restless sleep, and the sky is pink with only a few small clouds visible from where they sit.  
"Sure, but what are you doing up so early?"  
It doesn't sound as harsh as expected. In fact, if he didn't know better, he'd think it were asked out of genuine friendly concern. "I could ask you the same."  
"True." No argument. No personal explanation either.  
The sky turns to a light purple before the conversation continues.  
"Don't you try to keep your nice clothes from getting too dirty? We aren't exactly sitting on dry cement. You're sitting in mud and it's going to look like you shat yourself when you get up."  
He hadn't thought of it, but isn't going admit so and chooses to ignore that part and just answer the question. "I don't care unless I have somewhere important to be and don't have the time to have what I want to wear cleaned."  
"Okay. Your turn to ask stupid questions then."  
The first feeling of the day that he can put a certain word to is _confused._ It shows well enough on his face that there is an elaboration, "Or any type of question, anything you want to ask me. Y'know, I had to answer to Diana after you left, but it should've been you, so lets get it all out of the way."  
"She told you to talk to me?"  
"Sure did. Gettin' real repetitive. Won't let it go. You know how she is."  
"So you're only talking to me so she'll let it go?"  
"No. There's more than one reason."  
"And what are the others?"  
"That she's right. But don't tell her I said that."  
The confusion had turned to annoyance and now amusement. It's almost laughable.  
"You ever consider trimming your hair or making it look neater?"  
"No. It'd be pointless with how much time I spend in the water, would get re-tangled anyway. As long as there isn't mold growing in it, I like it how it is. If I had a good reason to, I might put it up in a bun."  
He does let out a little laugh now, picturing Arthur's hair in a bun. There are stupid, silly questions about life in the water, about food and morals and genetics, about puns and bad jokes that have been told. There are better jokes told.  
When he gets up and turns to go home, he gets splashed and turns back around.  
"What was that for?"  
"I was right. The mud looks like shit."  
The sky is blue. 


	3. Technicalities & Informalities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was indeed both gossip and business, as well as curiosity.  
> (Set on the same day as Fresh Air. also... this part feels like a choppy mistake. I'm sorry in advance for what you're about to read.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact about me: English isn't my first language. That was Norwegian. Despite me living in the U.S. my whole life. If anyone wants the story behind that, you'll have to ask. Anyway, because of this, I sometimes forget words in English. once I had gone through an online translator, just to be sure, I looked to YouTube for a video of someone "scoffing," then sat through this https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rbc7lRh2cyY and was very, very annoyed for almost five minutes. That is the first video of hers I've seen and I think she talks like her audience is a class of small children. It irritates me. The point is good, but the way she makes it bothers me. Honestly, no matter how smart I may make myself sound, I usually feel really dumb and am never quite sure that I'm doing anything right, so any positive feedback at all that I get from what I post means a LOT to me. This is a thank you to everyone reading from me, especially those who did more than just read.

"Alfred... Oh, who am I kidding? What do I offer someone who's mostly machine?" He keeps the thought of _Can you even digest?_ to himself.  
Victor scoffs at him. "You look heavier than what your med records indicate. Made me think of some girls I used to know and what their ID cards said."  
Disregarding his lack of privacy, he addresses the other half of what was just said, "You ever miss those girls?"  
"'Course I do. There's a lot I miss. What about you? I didn't find anythin' about your luck with ladies."  
"Few I used to know. Lost causes, though, really."  
"How so?"  
"With this kind of lifestyle?"  
"So you're saying I shouldn't try?"  
"No."  
"How does it work? I mean, you got all these rules you follow, advice you'd give yourself, and then when others try to take it, you don't want them to listen to you? I think you're bein' too hard on yourself and it's unrealistic for you to think you can be a bad influence like that and say you had your reasons without telling us what those reasons are, like we'd let it go that easy. Or maybe you're just bad at flirting and afraid to try. Is that it?"  
It's later in the day, almost night. They might've talked about stars if they were outside, but alas, romance it is.  
"Again, no. Even if that were true, who do you think I could try for?" It's asked with a forced act of disinterest, eyes to his drink and tone aloof.  
"At first, I thought Diana was into you. Then I learned she acts that caring and... _touchy-feely_ with a lot of people. She's just real friendly. But, if you're brave enough, you could ask her yourself."  
"Sounds like a waste of time." The slightest bit of doubt that it would go anywhere is what got him.  
"Sounds like we should change the subject, yeah?"  
"Agreed."  
A few minor improvements are made to some equipment.  
"Thank you."  
"No problem. Honestly, it was kinda bothering me that you weren't up-to-date on those things."  
"Well, problem solved now. Is that all? Anything else you had to tell me?"  
"Nothing you'd want or necessarily need to hear."  
"Hm. Alright then."  
He waits a minute, expecting Victor to fly off after that, but it doesn't happen.  
"What?"  
"You sure?"  
"Fine, tell me."  
"I told you what I thought about Diana because I thought you felt the same. Barry agrees with me. I guess we were both wrong. That's all."  
"Oh."  
"You're really not interested in anyone we know?"  
"Yes. Really."  
"Okay. Bye."  
"O-" _'kay, bye._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise I'm not setting up for anything shippy (unless someone asks me to).


	4. Wonder Incited Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gone are the days where she believed men made a world in which it is impossible to stand together. That doesn't mean it isn't hard sometimes, especially when someone you're trying to stand with expects to get hurt nine out of ten times they touch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read the added tags.

He put it off for a few days after his conversation with Victor. He wouldn't let it show, but it really got to him. But after those few days, he decided he was ready to and sent Diana a quick email asking how busy she was. Hope for the best, expect the worst, right? Worst case is that she's too busy for him. Best is that she isn't and then that's the real worst because it means he has to decide what to say to her. He doesn't know what he'll say to her in the moment and that's the actual, true worst case.  
She's not too busy for him.

"Hello, Bruce."  
"Hey. Welcome back."  
"Did you miss me?"  
_Who wouldn't?_ "I asked to see you, didn't I?"  
"Yes, you did."  
"I have to thank you."  
"For what?"  
"Talking some sense into Arthur."  
"Victor and Clark helped."  
"Well, whatever you three did, it was mean enough to make him listen."  
"I tried not to be too mean. It's not my style."  
"Of course."  
"I am glad it worked though."  
He lets her go on about her ordinary day job for a while. It's not entirely boring, at least not enough to stop. Eventually, she turns the attention back on him. It's easy until their hands bump when she's leaving. Nine out of ten times he makes contact with anyone, he's expecting to get hurt, and the 1 is usually with Alfred and usually similarly accidental. That one out of ten, he's not expecting to get hurt, but is still startled by it.  
The worst case is that she notices the small jump. The real worst case he'd never tell anyone is that she doesn't and never says anything about it. He knows she's not the kind of person who would be intentionally mean about something so insignificant. Only it's not really that insignificant.  
It's the lesser of the two bad cases.  
"Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."  
"You didn't scare me."  
"Then why so jumpy? Accidents happen."  
"Yeah. Right. I just wasn't expecting it, that's all. You surprised me."  
"You look spooked. You're easier to read than you think. If it's really not a problem, we should shake hands."  
"Sure. Not a problem."

If it really weren't a problem, he wouldn't be having trouble sleeping because he can still feel that handshake and how nice it was and the sense that something is missing from his life wouldn't be suddenly multiplied.


	5. American Pie (The New Year Party)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Broken promises can leave a bad taste in your mouth, but kept ones can be delicious as pie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the song described would probably be something like 3OH!3 but tbh I was listening to Frank Sinatra's "People Will Say We're In Love" while typing this. I'm trying really hard not to make it shippy.

"I know a pie isn't exactly party food, but I'm hoping you'll still accept it."  
"Of course. Smells great."  
"This was a good idea. We really missed out on the December stuff, but what you've thrown for the end of... I think it makes up for that well enough."  
"Thank you. We'll certainly have to do something for this next one."  
"I look forward to it."

There are games of all kinds. Board, video, card, talk. Clark brought the two most important women in his life and wished the third a happy new year before anyone else could. No one questions the pie because they're too busy wondering about the large amount of candied apples and things covered in honey. Still, they don't mind enough to ask why.  
Later, when he's had a slice of the pie, they talk more.  
"You said you'd be willing to bring good food. _Good_ food. Good is an understatement."  
Stern-toned but with a smile, Clark tells him, "You're being too kind because you had it with wine. Go sit down."  
He knows the other man is right and he's not in a mood to argue, so he does.

At some point, he notices a hand held out near his face and it snaps him back into reality. "I'm sorry, did you say something?"  
He looks up and it's Diana, also smiling at him, but so is everyone else tonight. It's a good party. "Dance with me?"  
"Oh. Sure. Okay." No harm in dancing. It's not a slow, romantic song or anything like that. In fact, quite the opposite. Something catchy and easy to move fast to, something she'd be completely disgusted by if she paid closer attention to the lyrics. She's learnt by now not to ruin the fun at parties by acting like she cares too much about the words. If she notices the younger men watching them and talking quietly, she doesn't say anything about it.

"How isn't the wine doing anything to you?"  
"It goes through me too fast, remember?"  
"Oh. Right."  
"You seem cheery."  
"I'm tired."  
Barry laughs a little. "Lets get you to bed then."  
"Huh?"  
"We'll help Alfred clean up, don't worry."  
"That's not necessary."  
"We already talked it over."  
"If you guys want to keep it going, fine by me, just turn the music down."  
"You sure?"  
"Abso-lute-ly."  
"Okay. Good nice, Bruce."

He hears slightly muffled talking from just outside his bedroom door about an hour later.  
_"Do you think he's asleep yet? I don't want to wake him."_  
_"I doubt it. He looked too nervous when we were talking, he's probably waiting for us to leave."_  
He doesn't let it go on any longer before shouting to them that he's awake. The door creaks opened. "Did you break something?"  
"No, we were just wondering if you'd mind if some of us slept over."  
"Has Alfred gone to bed yet?"  
"No."  
"It's fine, ask him to show you the guest rooms."  
"Thank you. Good night, again."  
"Right back at you."


	6. This Is Not The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diana isn't a bad cook. She's lived alone long enough to perfect whatever he heart has desired from a kitchen. Insert cartoon Barry with heart eyes and Alfred refusing to admit he didn't already know how to do some things but fooling nobody here.

Clark left with his ladies first, then Victor, bet the rest stayed. Yes, that includes Arthur. He doesn't eat a lot of things that aren't grown in the ground or from the water, but he tried a lot the night before and slept well, feeling almost too full. He's even less used to sleeping in a bed so big and perfectly soft but firmer in the right places, with pillows that aren't lumpy and just about no possibility that there's bugs in any of it.  
Bruce wouldn't have left his room still wrapped in a huge blanket and what he wore last night if he'd remembered that other people - other than Alfred - were likely still in the building. So when he sees leftover pie with the shake can kind of whipped cream added to the top surrounded by fruit on two plates, one of which is in front of an empty seat, and two others with different breakfast food, and Arthur, Diana, and Barry waiting for him at his table, he's reasonable embarrassed. He doubts he smells anywhere near as nice as the pie and goes back to his room so fast he was almost running.

He goes back and apologizes after a quick shower and change of clothes, blanket ditched.  
"Aw, but I thought you looked cute all cozy in that big blanket," she teases.  
"Don't."  
"You can try to stop it all you want, but we can think of you however we want."  
"That was fucking precious, man."  
"Okay, well can you at least not tell me about it?"  
"We'll try."  
"Sure thing."  
"Can we tell other people though?"  
"He can't control what we say to other people."  
"Hm, no, he can't..."  
He grumbles, picking up his fork, "You two think you're so funny... Well, you're not."  
"I gotta admit, I'm a little bummed you didn't bring the blanket back."  
"Why's that?"  
"I thought it might be better to hug you that way and it looked really soft."  
"It is really soft."  
"You're good at dodging points you don't like. I'm not letting this one go. If you really don't want to, I'll stop trying, but I think you could use a hug. Or two. Or three."  
"I'm not hugging him."  
"Not even if I'm in it too?"  
"... Let me think that over while I eat and I'll get back to you when I'm done."  
"What made you think I need a hug?"  
"How clearly do you remember our dancing?"  
"Just enough to know it happened. Are you about to rain on my fond memory?"  
"I'm afraid so. You were so jittery and reacted to moves I made in ways that led me to think you're not used to physical contact being an enjoyable thing. You tried to act like that wasn't the case, but I saw right through it." It's so blunt it should feel more offensively revealing, but her tone is too light. The point is to be inviting and _not_ put him back on edge.  
"I didn't want to ruin anyone's fun by dumping that problem on you right then and there. Sorry I did such a bad job of acting normal." He's trying to sound cold, but it's not working like it usually does.  
"I wasn't complaining, just pointing something out to you. If I'm wrong, tell me. If you weren't ready to acknowledge it, I'm sorry, I'll back off until you are. But I thought now would be as good as time as any to ask."  
"You're not asking me anything, you're **telling me** -"  
"I'm asking you if a hug would be okay with you today before we leave."  
He takes a minute to calm down, finishes his slice before answering.  
"Okay."

"Bruce, where are you going?"  
"None of you saw me with that blanket, got it? Say nothing about it to nobody!"  
Barry speaks up. "He's... he's going to put the blanket back on, that's where he's going."  
"Damn. Wasn't expecting that."  
"Neither was I, Arthur."

They have their four-person hug. They go their separate ways. Something isn't missing anymore.

"Do you know how illogical it is to hide your hand like that when the mark is barely noticeable anymore and it's highly unlikely they'd say anything about it if they did notice? Come here, loosen up your grip, that can't possibly be comfortable. You've got to stop acting like this. If you want so badly to let the past go, you have to do so quite literally, do you understand?"  
"I... Yes, Alfred, thank you. I appreciate the reminder." 


End file.
